Fixing People

Posted on April 26, 2012 by cameronversluis

People are broken.  Spend enough time with them and you quickly find that out.  Ask a deep enough question and sometimes they practically vomit their past hurts all over you, as if they’ve been waiting for a soul who cares enough to listen.

People are complicated.  What makes them tick is a great mystery.  They’re made up of so many pieces and moments and voices in their heads that it’s sometimes difficult to figure out where the broken place is.  The root of the infection is difficult to detect.

Sometimes, you just want to fix people.  Our empathy so easily turns into a determination to just fix the problem, like we would fix a clock or a computer or a car.  Sometimes, we throw a Bible verse at them or get them to pray a certain prayer or give them a little money or time, and we hope things will be good from there.

But we can’t fix them that easily.  People don’t fix like clocks do.

And it’s one of the most hurtful things in the world.  I have spent many, many long hours listening to and drumming to Hurt by Thousand Foot Krutch, wishing there was some way I could fix the problems my friends were going through.  But my hands were tied, and there was nothing I could do.

In the end, I don’t think people can be fixed like mechanical parts can.  A lot of problems, people have to fix for themselves.  In the end, fixing their problems isn’t our job.  It’s not about fixing them.  It’s about giving those people acceptance and space to spread their wings so that they can learn to get off the ground.  The best thing we can do for those we love is to create an environment where they can be open, honest, and begin to find healing and “fix” the problems only they can.

It’s more about giving people opportunities than solutions.

 

And it hurts when you need me, and I can’t break your fall

And it hurts, when you can’t see, and it hurts

- Hurt by TFK

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The Valley (My Week Living in a Tech Booth)

Posted on April 13, 2012 by cameronversluis

Last week, I pretty much lived on fast food in the church tech booth.  It was awesome.

For Easter, we put on a production of The Valley, which was a musical production that centered around Ezekiel 37 (can these dry bones live?).  We have a bunch of pretty epic musicians in our church, and each one was given a verse from Ez 37 to write a song from.

I was dubbed EFX Manager.  That pretty much meant I had to handle all of the new tech.

First performance was Friday.  Dave (our full-time tech guy) is a genius.  He got us hooked up with a program called Isadora to manage the production screens in a bizarrely and awesomely new way.  We installed two new projector screens flanking our main projector.  Tuesday was a jam-packed day.  We installed four huge video screens underneath the side projectors and built a brand new computer to handle it all.

I was handed a still-warm CPU and sent to the tech booth.  I had the rest of Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday to get the video content for the screens together.  Everything shown on the screens had to be timed to the music.  We wanted to create a completely immersive atmosphere.  Performances were Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

That was one of the more intense things I’ve ever done.

The absolute best part was working with my friend Justin.  Together we clocked probably 200 hours into the project.  We both did a lot but he admittedly put in a lot more hours than I did.  Justin spent his entire spring break on this, and man, am I grateful.  He should have been co-EFX Manager because he helped me with everything.

There’s something about working together with others on projects that creates unique bonds.  After enough early mornings and late nights, enough shared responsibilities and collaborating so much you can’t remember whose ideas were whose anymore, you are brothers and compatriots.

Second best part had to be the prayer meetings before the production.  I could tell that even though it was a “production”, every single person there had a heart that went well beyond music notes and lighting shifts and FX cues.  Everyone believed in God’s power; in dry bones coming to life.

We did a lot of very unique stuff with the project.  Live video feed to the screens, video effects that are triggered by the kick drum, etc.  It was epic.

My personal favorite songs were Among the Dead and Bleached by the Sun, especially effects-wise.  I love the Latin parts.

The video of the production is finally online, woot!  Thanks to all the musicians, tech guys, and others who poured into this project.  It was amazing.

Nos sunt mortuus et Aridam
(We are dead and dry)
Venit Sana nobis Dominus Saboth
(Come heal us Lord Sabaoth)
Nos sunt desperato
(We are hopeless)
Venit et luceat lux vestra
(Come and shine your light)

-Bleached by the Sun

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Posted in Happenings, Impact Church, Media, Production, Tech |

What Would Jesus Do?

Posted on April 12, 2012 by cameronversluis

What would Jesus do?  Let me just be honest and say I have absolutely no idea what Jesus of Nazareth would be doing if he were on earth today and happened to be living and ministering among North America.

I mean, I think we can get kind of a general idea.  He would be doing things with compassion, looking out for the underdogs, that kind of thing.  But specifically?  What exactly would he be doing?  I have no idea.  And that’s kind of the point.  Being unpredictable was exactly how Jesus rolled.  That was how he taught.

That’s one of the biggest lessons I learned this year.  You do not learn from things you’ve seen and done before.  You learn from the unexpected.

People do not learn from things they’ve seen and done before.  It doesn’t stick.  They learn from the unexpected.  To truly teach them, you have to catch them off guard.

So, what would Jesus do?  Unpredictable things.  Things I wouldn’t see coming.  Things that would probably make me very uncomfortable.  And that’s kind of the point.

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It’s So Much Easier to Critique

Posted on April 10, 2012 by cameronversluis

I’ve been used to church hopping most of my life.  I’ve been in Baptist churches, Bible churches, Wesleyan churches, Reformed churches, non-denominational churches, chapels, Covenant churches… you name it, more or less.

And I’ve become quite a critic.  I think my whole family has.  We’re very used to trying a church for a while, and when it doesn’t “work out” for us, we leave.  A frequent family prayer of ours was that we would find a “church home” where we were “comfortable”.

It just hasn’t happened.  And I don’t want to throw my family under the bus.  I do that too much and I’m just as guilty of the critical-hop attitude as anyone else.  But we haven’t found a church that was “comfortable” or where we all “fit”, and we’ve all been critical.

Now I’m kind of on the other side of all that.  Suddenly, I’m in a church and I’m really involved.  More involved than I’ve ever been in anything.  And it’s so, so strange to see it all from the other side.  Suddenly, I’m behind the scenes, scrambling to put things together, worrying about how people will take it if I say this-or-that, balancing scheduling and logistics and whatever else comes up.

Frankly, it’s hard.  Very hard.  And I’m not even in a top-level ministry position.  That would be insanity.  Fun insanity, but insanity.

It’s just in things like this that you realize you can’t please everyone.  That’s a hard truth for me, because I am naturally a people pleaser, a performer.  I like to put on a good show and make people happy, make them like me.  Unfortunately, the reality is that there are many critics like me who sit back and critique… well, people like me.

It’s just so much easier to sit back and talk about what people are doing wrong.  It’s a lot harder to get out there and do it right.  Abba, forgive me for my mouth.

Maybe we just need to shut up and get working.

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When a Hug is All You Can Do

Posted on April 7, 2012 by cameronversluis

I had the most unusual experience tonight.  Coming home from an epic Easter production at my church, I no more than turned onto my road when I saw a pair of tail lights fly wildly off course to a crunching thud in the ditch behind me.

Not sure what I would find, I got out of my car and ran as fast as I could to the scene.  There was just a single car, and I immediately thought, ‘drunk driver’.

The car wasn’t in bad shape.  The driver was a dazed looking woman in her 30′s or 40′s.  I asked her through the open window if she was all right.

“I’m all right,” she said, with a bit of a slur.  “Can you get me out of here?”

“Well,” I replied, “I’ll try.”

I really didn’t have any clue what to do, so I just pushed back the branches and yanked the door open.  Then I helped her out of the car.  She had blood on her hands, and I asked if she was hurt, but she said it was fine.  I flashed my cell at the cuts, and they didn’t look deep, whatever they were from.

Her name was something Jones.  I can’t remember the first name, which makes me upset.

I asked her where she had come from, and she said, “Lowell”.  That didn’t make sense because she was coming from the other way.  But I asked her if she had been partying.  “A little,” she replied, guiltily.

The way she tried to walk up the hill and immediately fell on her butt in the brambles confirmed my belief that we had a drunk driving case going.

She begged me many times not to call the police.  I told her I might have to; drunk driving is a serious offense and I know several people who have lost close friends or family members to drunk drivers.  I’ll never forget my friend Jeffrey playing bass to his brother’s favorite old worship song.  His brother used to play the song, “Mighty to Save”, at church until he was killed by a drunk driver.  One of the most numbing, hallowed sights I have ever seen is Jeffrey playing bass to that song at church, tears streaming down his face, crying for his brother and picking the bass as hard as he could.

All the same, I didn’t want to get her in trouble.  She was a broken person, that much was clear.  She told me that she had a one-year-old and a six-year-old.  Her husband had left her six years ago.  She was struggling with alcohol and so upset because this was her second offense, and she was worried about going to jail and having the kids left with no one to care for them.

I felt strongly she just needed some love.  I’ve just been absorbing people around church talking about God’s love over the past year, and I knew that is what this woman needed.  So I just grabbed her and gave her a huge hug.

The first thing she said was, “Oh, my God… no one has given me a hug in so long.”

“God told me to give you this hug,” I replied.  I think it was true, at least in a roundabout way, right?

“Where did you come from?,” she asked, and literally added, “Are you an angel?”

“I’m just around the corner,” I replied.

It broke my heart that no one has hugged her in so long that it meant that much to her.  I ended up holding her there for like five minutes.  She just sobbed in my arms.

Mostly, it felt a little bit awkward.  In a movie that kind of thing seems to make sense.  One character holds another in his arms and there’s just kind of this holy moment where it all feels right.  This was more clumsy.  I had plenty of time to think thoughts like, “Am I hugging her too long?” and “I wonder if her nose is dripping on my shirt?”

But I knew, deep down, that this was a “holy moment” for her.  In a life where she’s been shown so little love, this was a breath of fresh air.  It meant a lot to her.  And so I kept holding her for quite a while.

Somebody passing by must have called the police, because they showed up.  The officers asked a bunch of questions, took my ID and number, and then thanked me and sent me home.  And so I went.

I didn’t really get to say goodbye to her.  I looked back with regret and I wished I could have done more.  Sometimes, though, a hug is all you can do.  Maybe that’s all I was sent there for tonight.

I might be called to testify in court, since I was the sole witness of the accident.  I’m looking forward to seeing her (whatever her name was) again.  Part of you always feels bad for not doing more when these types of things happen.  I’d love to be able to help her out more.  And I know her kids need it.

Usually, I’m not the guy to say, “nothing is an accident”.  Actually, I’m usually the one raising an eyebrow when somebody else says it.  But I think God had a hand in what happened tonight.  I think I was there to give her that hug.

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